


Broken Together

by hmurya



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 07:39:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1217977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hmurya/pseuds/hmurya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was not supposed to be broken. Wrong. So wrong. The word won't leave. With every step it punctuates, getting louder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Together

"You ok?" You peer through the somewhat pushed open door. Those tightly shut eyes, that hunched posture, the overall sight of it makes you think the answer can't be anything but a 'no'. It's MacKenzie Mchale though. And you know it's going to be a while before the 'no' makes its way through.

"Why are you peeking in?"

Yes, it is going to be a while.

"In case I am not welcomed right now, I could make a run for it."

You reply, pointing your thumb at the nothing behind you. Well not really nothing, but that's beside the point.

"Don't be ridiculous. I would never let you get off that easy if you ran. Come in."

Kenzie welcomes you in with a rather frantic motion of her hand. You still have to decipher why she needs to reach such levels of erratic motions to get her point across.

"Nice to know. So why are you sad?"

"Why are you so socially inept?"

If there was a Richter scale for socially inept humans, you would be way up there. A few points behind Sheldon Cooper, but close. She knows that though, and she is stalling. So you push on.

"You know why. But I don't know why. So why?"

Then again, your incompetence seems to effervesce around her. You think it's because she is almost the exact opposite of you. You are solitude, she is chaos. You like to stand in the cold until your body numbs, she likes to create bonfires. You are ice, she is warmth.

"Jesus just sit down. You are making me nervous."

You weigh your options, not entirely sure if you are in the mood for a heart-to-heart therapy session. You had enough of those with Don.

Your feet move of their own accord. Before you know it you are sitting, your gaze fixating onto those blazing eyes. You also need to figure out why you are so inexplicably drawn to her.

"What's wrong?" A hush, accompanied by a fleeting touch.

A pause and prolonged intake of breath.

"He broke up with me."

"Oh."

A million words, an infinity of combinations, years of education and all you could gather was an 'oh'. Her fingers are shaky as she crumbles the piece of paper in her hand. You place your hand on top of hers, hoping to relay something – an emotion, an apology, a thought. Anything but an 'oh'.

A gentle smile etches across her features. A fake.

"You don't have to do this Sloan."

You look at her more carefully now. Suddenly you two are not so different anymore.

Dark. Cold.

You both are ice.

But she is not supposed to be. You find it all wrong. Like the sun has decided to rise from the west. Maybe it has. But it shouldn't. You feel scared. For her, not yourself.

You don't mean to, but you get up. You get up and you leave. Without as much as a single word.

_Wrong. Wrong. Wrong._

The words are a booming echo in your head. You hear Neal calling your name, you ignore it.

_Wrong. So wrong._

The word won't leave. With every step it punctuates, getting louder.

The door slams.

"WRONG!"

You shout into the room. It shouldn't affect you. But she is light. The light beyond an open door that pulls you in.

So it affects you.

You take deep breaths to calm yourself. You are compelled to walk back to her. You do.

Not before picking up a bar of chocolate from your drawer.

No knock, no questions. Just an open door that oscillates before coming to rest. You place the chocolate bar in front of her. She eyes you suspiciously.

"Lupin said chocolate helps." You shrug.

She smiles, a bit more genuinely this time.

"Thank you. Didn't peg you for a Harry Potter fan."

She unwraps the chocolate with an awful slowness. You take the time to sit down.

"I'm not that boring." Your attempt at making the situation lighter is a clear fail. "Go to the valentine's day party with me." They slip out. So fucking anonymous.

"What?"

"You bought tickets to the AWM party. And it's couples only. This way your ticket won't go to waste, I will get to be at the party, and your mind could use some diversion."

"Let me get this clear. You want me to go to a Valentine's Day party, two days after my break up. With you?"

"That is exactly it."

"Ok." You know it's a yes.

"Ok?" You can't be too sure

"Ok!" She repeats with a little bit more clarity.

"Ok!" You reply, a half smile on your face.

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Saying 'ok'."

"Ok." She throws her free hand in air in disbelief. "Sorry jeez. Don't get so worked up about it."

"Sloan."

"Yes?"

"Dress nicely."

"Good to know you have so much faith in me."

"Never been an issue."

You see it, the light coming back. Seeping through the cracks in the blinds. The word still echoes in your head. Followed by a  _'This is not over yet. It's just a little ray of light.'_

"Alright then. I should go."

"Yea, yea sure. Don't want to hold you up."

You step out as she calls your name. You peek in through the frame.

"Thanks for the chocolate." You smile.

"Anytime."

The smile falters as you see the ray flicker off. It's gone again making the word boom even louder, if possible.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

You pick her up. In case she plans to drink her sorrows away.

"Not bad Ms. Sabbith." She comments on your attire.

"Thank you. You look nice too." She hums a response, turning her attention to the outside world.

You chance a look at her. She looks even worse than before. Helpless, hopeless, desperate for a release. It makes you feel helpless, hopeless, and desperate. In fact it makes you feel much worse, because there is nothing you can do.

Or maybe you can, but you are too much of a social mess to help someone. Or maybe because you know exactly what she is going through and there is nothing that can be done about it.

It doesn't make you feel any better. It makes you feel worse.

You have been through this.

You know when a break up is not just a break up, but a breaking point.

You know if something is not done now, 6 years from now, she wouldn't have gotten over him like she did with Will.

You know she is broken. But not beyond repair.

You should know how to repair her.

And you will repair her. Yes. You will repair her.

After all, you repaired yourself too.

She dances with you at the party, and talks mostly to you. No one knows how to deal with a sad MacKenzie McHale. Hell even you don't know. Still there you are, trying to find your way into reassembling her.

No one shares more than a sentence or two. Even if they try they can't. She zones out faster than someone with ADD. You are by her side the whole time, mostly making sure she doesn't drink too much. Which would have worked if she would have opted for a drink apart from water.

You two are sitting on the couch, sipping on your cocktail and water, when she abruptly gets up.

"Dance with me." She states, holding out her hand.

"I – ah – I don't really know how to."

"Don't be ridiculous, just come. I'll lead." Her fingers waggle, urging you to get up.

Compelled.

You take her hand, giving yourself up totally. She leads you to the dance floor. There is sweat, and stench. Her arms wrap around your middle. She places the palm of her hand on the small of your back, sending shivers down your spine. No more sweat, no more stench.

Point 3 added to the list. Why does Mackenzie McHale make me feel this way?

"Relax a bit, will ya? I could dance with a statue and get a better reaction."

"I don't know what to do." Your reply is instant.

You sense there is a double meaning to this, something your brain is trying to tell you. But with Kenzie so close to you, you can't make heads or tail of it.

She takes both of your limply hanging arms and places them gently on her hips. You literally stop breathing.

"What's wrong?"

You don't know what's wrong. She doesn't know what's wrong. But you don't know what's wrong.

You shake your head, dismissing the question. She doesn't press any further, instead opting to wrap her arms around your neck this time.

Her hips start to sway under your hold. You start looking around, hoping to avoid this feeling, whatever this is.

You look back at her, right into her eyes. You see the imperfections, the flaws, the battered seams.

An enigma.

A moment.

_What's wrong?_

You don't know, she doesn't know.

Just a moment.

But your heart knows.

Your lips find hers. Not of their own will. You make them find hers.

You expect to feel warmth. You know you should feel warmth. But you don't.

There is nothing but cold, hard ice that makes you pull back.

You want to blame it on the alcohol. It's always the easy way out.

Her lips on yours extinguish that thought.

Just your thoughts.

Because your heart is on fire. You feel alive. You feel like her. You kiss her feverishly, eager to find a source of warmth. The lack thereof makes the fire burn stronger.

She breaks the kiss. You see a look settle on her face.

Uncertainty.

There is no more fire, just rain. You are cold again.

She walks away. The sweat and stench return. You can't let her walk away. You felt alive after a very, very long time.

Now your head also knows.

You make your way out of the party, dodging people who try to stop you. It's cold outside, your coat all forgotten inside. Usually, the cold would be your good friend. But after the fire you just felt, it's chilling to the bone.

You look to your left, and to your right, hands clutched tightly across your chest. You find her standing across the road, leaning against a tree, facing away from you.

You hurry towards her, eager to feel the fire again. She turns around when you are just a few steps away. It doesn't give her enough time to react, as you close the gap and kiss her again, her face cradled in your palms.

Her hands come up to hold yours, as she tries to pull them away. You part long enough to whisper the words 'live'.

She stops her struggle against you, holding your wrists tight. She starts kissing you back. You open your eyes to look at her. Her eyes are shut tight, lines creasing her forehead.

You know she is trying to take your advice, trying to live. You close your eyes and kiss her back with more passion.

In hopes of drawing out all her sadness and sorrows. Clearing a path for her brightness and warmth to easily make its way through. It won't be easy, but you know you will get there.

She breaks the kiss, resting her forehead against yours, eyes still closed. Your thumb strokes her cheek.

"You are warmth, Kenzie. Please remember that."

"Then what are you?"

"Ice."

A low chuckle escapes her lips as she shakes her head from side to side.

"No."

"No?" You ask confused. You know you are ice. You have always been ice.

"No. You are sunlight."

"I'm not."

"You are sunlight." She repeats. "The night hides our insecurities and brings out our fears. The sunlight exposes us, forces us to face our insecurities so we can be stronger. You do that Sloan. You make people stronger than they were before. And even if you can't, you seep into them with the help of the moon. You are always there Sloan. Always there to help a fallen."

You close your eyes, repeating her words in your mind. It can't be true. You can't be wrong about yourself.

"Don't. Don't shatter my definition. Don't break me."

You hear her laugh, feel her vibrate. ' _We are both broken'_ is her reply.

You expected a lot to happen this night. You expected to drag a drunken Kenzie through the door, you expected to be drunk, you expected to be her solidity for a night.

What you didn't expect is for her to break you. And pull you in with her.

You didn't expect to be broken together.

You didn't expect to not mind it.

You are ice, she is warmth.

She thaws you.

Point 3 crossed out.


End file.
